


Rules Were Made (To Be Broken)

by ElDiablito_SF



Series: Lightbringer Verse [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: M/M, The healing continues, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: Silver crosses a boundary.  Thomas isn't entirely as opposed to it as he thought.





	Rules Were Made (To Be Broken)

**Author's Note:**

> Technically, this is the follow up that no one asked for to "Lightbringer". Basically, I decided it needed more porn, and I had a long plane ride, so here you go!

The feeling of wakefulness settled over Thomas like a heavy down blanket, gradually wrapping around his form until it molded to all his limbs. He rolled closer towards James, one arm slung over that broad chest, the sensation of his beloved’s breath expanding his ribcage rhythmically, his body still warm with sleep and the remaining indolence of the lovemaking of the night before.

They had returned from another supply run, Silver’s wind-swept curls swooshing through the doorway, his eyes fixed on James the same way they were the day Thomas and Madi had returned from Bath to find that the two of them had become what he imagined they had always been meant to be. Silver would kill for James; Silver would die for James. Thomas wasn’t ever opposed to sharing, but every now and then that look of puppylike adoration would be returned by James, and it made something in Thomas’ chest pinch uncomfortably. And then march James immediately up the stairs, into their bedroom, where James got on his hands and knees in the middle of their bed, and Thomas fucked him with the gusto of a man half his age, teeth sinking into the tight coil of muscle between James’ neck and shoulder, growling words of possessive nonsense into his ear.

They had rules: when they were at sea on the _Lightbringer_ , they were free to do as they pleased; but when they were back in Bristol, James’ place was back in Thomas’ bed, in _their_ bed, and Silver was banished back to the guest room. Silver’s room. Thomas still hadn’t gotten accustomed thinking about it that way. He wasn’t sure he had ever truly become accustomed to Silver as a _concept_ in the first place, and to have him rendered flesh and bone and cohabitating in the manor was a development far stranger yet.

But James would kill for Silver; and he would die for Silver. And Thomas loved James more than God, more than freedom, more than his youthful idealism, more than his memory of Miranda, and his paternal adoration for Madi. So Thomas would learn to tolerate Silver for James.

Thomas inhaled the scent of James’ skin, still salted by the sea air and musky from their exertion of the prior night. His arm skid over James’ chest and dipped towards his armpit, where Thomas found his fingers tangled in a silken net of thick curls. _What the bloody fuck._

He propped himself up and rubbed sleep out of his eyes, hoping against hope to rub the unwelcome vision out of them like a distant dream. When his eyes focused, it had been to find James awake and looking at him with a look of pleading desperation.

“You were right,” Thomas finally whispered. “He does not take up very much room in the bed.”

Relief washed over James’ face at that reminiscence. “He had a nightmare,” he whispered, breath ruffling Silver’s curls as the invader continued to sleep, unperturbed and curled into James’ armpit. Thomas watched for a few more seconds, transfixed by the way Silver’s breath settled against James’ chest, his mouth open and vulnerable and drooling slightly against the soft cambric of James’ nightshirt.

“This is not what I meant when I kept at you and Madi to make me a baby,” Thomas pointed out.

“I’m sorry,” James mouthed, one arm still curled protectively around Silver, the other reaching out towards Thomas to grasp him by the back of the neck and pull him into a soft kiss.

It had felt so right the night before, to take James that way. He had left the door to the bedroom ajar, not giving the slightest fuck should the servants see. The servants would surely know better by then. Thomas was not above jealousy, he was learning, as the green-eyed monster unfurled its tail inside his gut. He was too well aware for whose benefit he had left that door ajar while he grabbed James by the hips and slammed inside him, again and again, until they both lay panting in the middle of their bed. He was very well aware of the pair of blue eyes that had burned into his ribcage from the other side of that door. He was not proud of it, but Thomas had relished it.

He supposed, then, it was only fair to wake up to _this_ , whatever this actually was.

“We had an agreement,” Thomas said, his eyes scanning Silver as he lay there, glued to James in a peaceful repose. He had to wonder if this was what they always looked like when they were alone out there, upon the waves, where Thomas could not follow them.

“I’m sorry,” James repeated. “I couldn’t turn him away.”

Idly, Thomas wondered what John Silver’s nightmares were all about. He knew James’ as intimately as he knew his own. There used to be nights when he suspected James had dreamt of Silver and woke up to the gaping emptiness in his own chest that Thomas had been insufficient to fill. He had agreed to this when he had suggested that Silver move in, and it was only a matter of time before the arbitrarily drawn lines that constituted their agreement would begin to blur.

On the upside, Thomas had to admit, their love life had become a lot more boisterous since Silver had chosen to darken his doorstep. After the initial ecstasy of his and James’ reunion had turned towards something more settled and sedate, their coupling had grown rarer, somewhat habitual even, as if that sense of wonder had eventually become eroded by time. Eight years later, Silver had arrived and ignited a spark in Thomas he was beginning to suspect had been diminished, if not extinguished. He owed Silver a debt of gratitude for that.

His hand traced the outline of James’ face gently as he leaned forward. “Of course you couldn’t. You would not be the man I love if you turned away your beautiful stray.”

“Thomas,” James’ smile belied the scolding tone.

“But there should be consequences for barging into our bedroom in the middle of the night, don’t you think?”

“Consequences?”

Silver, for all his quiet drooling onto James’ shirt, could not have been sleeping through all this.

“If he gets to come into our bed,” Thomas said, slowly pressing his thumb against the delectable swell of James’ lower lip, “Then I get to watch.”

A light flickered in James’ eyes. “Is that what you _want_?”

“It is.”

Their gaze held across the span of Silver’s naked shoulder. That tousled, tangled mane of hair remained spilled across James’ chest, and Thomas suddenly could not wait to see James’ beautiful fingers tangle through it, to watch James kiss those parted lips. What would Silver look like when his captain set him aflame? The desire to watch him burn rose up within Thomas like a tidal wave.

“Do it,” Thomas whispered, licking his own lips, half lost in his thoughts already. “I want to see you touch him.”

James curled his mouth into a familiar lopsided grin as his eyes lit up. His arm slid down along Silver’s flank, and dipped underneath the covers, pressing against Silver’s warm skin. His body moved with powerful grace as he extricated himself from beneath Silver and moved to crouch over the other man as his curls spilled against the pillow while James repositioned him onto his back.

“I can’t believe you never told me he was so…” Thomas stopped, one hand extended helplessly towards Silver’s sprawled, seminude form.

“Fuckable?” James suggested.

“Hm, yes. That’s…”

“I don’t recall ever seeing you at a loss for words,” James chuckled, tugging Silver’s trousers from his hips.

“Does he wear his street clothes to bed still? How barbaric,” Thomas pronounced, in an attempt to distract himself from the blood that rushed indelibly to his lower extremities.

“You would be woefully unsuited to the mariner lifestyle, my love,” James teased. His eyes sparked with devilish glee, making Thomas want to kiss that smirk off his face.

“They don’t call him _Long_ John Silver for nothing,” Thomas remarked as casually as he could, his eyes sweeping down Silver’s prone form.

“That’s… not why they call him that…”

“Shhh, don’t speak, love,” Thomas placed a finger over James’ mouth. “Get on with it.”

“Get on with what exactly?” James and Thomas both startled by Silver’s gravely, soft purr. “Why, Captain, are you about to take advantage of an unconscious man?”

“You hush,” Thomas pointed at Silver’s very rude, very interrupting face. “No one invited you either into this bed or into this discussion.”

A look flickered between Silver and James that was unreadable to Thomas, and yet it had seemed to serve to reassure and settle the wildling in their bed immediately. Silver’s face melted into a radiant smile and his arms reached out for James, with the softness of an unfurling wing of an angel.

“Are you sure?”

It took Thomas a moment to understand that James was addressing him. “ _Please_ ,” was all he said in response and watched as James folded over Silver’s form, thighs straddling the other man’s hips, hands cupping the chin and lifting Silver’s face towards his mouth.

Silver’s body swelled like the tide, arms clinging to James’ shoulders, his one good leg braced against the mattress, pushing himself upwards into the heat of James’ body. His tongue flashed against the seam of James’ mouth, then licked deeper inside, moaning softly against his lips.

  
The memory of those blue eyes devouring him through the open door the previous night flashed like lightning across the walls of Thomas’ mind. He had seen James kiss Miranda before. This was nothing like that. There was no softness or homecoming here, only a war that raged on somewhere far away, a sword crying to be dulled with each kiss, as if Silver wanted, needed James to remake him into something else. Something that would fit into James’ new life.

In all the years that they had lived together, first at Oglethorpe’s plantation, then in Bristol with Madi, Thomas had been the only one of them truly expecting this – this specter to show up on their doorstep. John Silver was the blade of a sword that could never be dulled. John Silver had been inevitable. But he threw himself upon the rocks of James’ cliffs with abandon, attempting with each kiss, with each touch to crack himself open upon their edges, to break and let his love bleed out into the surf.

Thomas couldn’t bear to look at _that_ anymore.

“For god’s sake, James, just turn him over and fuck him,” he whispered, his lips moving of his own accord.

Almost in a somnambulist state, James obeyed, tearing himself away from the desperation of Silver’s kisses, and flipping the other man easily over, as one would a ragdoll. Silver chuckled against the pillow, arching his feline back, his good leg braced down into the mattress, opening up, lifting himself towards James. Silver was the tide and James was the moon, controlling the ebb and flow of his lithe body. James’ own body draped over Silver’s, mouth pressed against each vertebra in a worshipful caress that made the waters of Thomas’ own stomach churn.

They were beautiful together. To separate them had been God’s greatest cruelty. Crueler still than when God had separated James from Thomas, because at least in their separation, they could still live with the knowledge of each other’s love, the memory of each other’s touch. Thomas could not see this and stand in its way, he never would.

He reached across to the bedside table for the vial with oil and tipped it over into James’ hand. “It’s all right,” he whispered into James’ ear. “Do it.”

“Do it,” echoed Silver, his lower back still arching his glorious arse upwards, towards James’ hands that parted his cheeks and poured the oil right into the cleft. James’ fingers hurried to prepare him, his thumbs held the orifice open while he slid slowly home, pushing Silver’s face further into the pillow, fucking a long, desperate moan out of him. “Oh _god_ … yes… James…”

Silver’s arms scrambled against the headboard, straightening to push him backwards, impaling himself on his lover’s cock. James fucked Silver steadily, one hand braced against his narrow, sharp hipbones, the other skating along his flank, up along his ribs, caressing a wild stallion who shook beneath his yoke. Thomas watched transfixed as James moved Silver’s wild mane of hair to the side to expose his neck that already bore a small constellation of bruises along the nape, and pressed his lips into the tender skin, worrying it with his teeth and tongue.

Blinding lust cut Thomas to the core and he shoved his own hips forward, his swollen cock seeking out the comfort of his fist. “ _Shit_.”

He was not exactly sure what he had expected, but it was not for Silver to extricate his face from the goosedown of the pillow and turn those ridiculously blue orbs upon him. Thomas found himself suddenly in the very eye of the storm. Lost upon the heady wave of desire that was sweeping over the three of them. Half-hypnotized, Thomas reached out and placed his index finger against Silver’s open lips, as his own cock gave a desperate jolt inside his fist. Silver’s eyes held Thomas’ gaze as his tongue swirled around the digit and his mouth opened ever-so-slightly wider. Thomas reached in with two of his fingers, stroking against the warm slickness of Silver’s tongue, while Silver closed his lips around Thomas’ fingers and sucked with a soft moan.

Thomas was dizzy. The scent of arousal hung in the air like miasma, wrapping them up, pulling them closer together.

“James…” Silver moaned into the pads of Thomas’ fingers.

“Thomas…” James breathed out against the back of Silver’s skull. “Do you want him?”

“Yes,” Silver responded for all of them, thrusting back onto James’ cock with another loud moan.

James’ voice was husky and soft, like a wave crashing against a pebbly shore, “John…”

Silver’s eyes, dark and clouded by lust, held Thomas’ gaze as his lips continued to gape, open and spit-slickened, waiting for Thomas to do what his cock had been leaking for over the past few minutes, like some divining rod of terrible ideas.

“It’s all right,” Silver whispered, even as James pulled on his hair, lifting his head. “You can do whatever you want, my _Lord_.”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do in my own bed,” Thomas retorted with contrarian glee, reaching out to tangle his own fingers in those thick curls, where his hand found James’, and placing his cock into Silver’s waiting mouth.

 _Christ_ , why did that feel so good? Thomas reached over and pulled James into a kiss, moaning his pleasure into that familiar furnace of a mouth. Silver wasn’t very good at sucking cock: he was sloppy and gagged from an overabundance of enthusiasm. Practice was what the uninvited barbarian needed. And yet… Thomas’ eyes were glued to the part of Silver into which James’ glorious cock was disappearing with long, rhythmic strokes that uncoiled something in the pit of Thomas’ stomach and turned the green-eyed monster into molten lava of pure desire. Thomas loosened his grip on Silver’s mane, allowing his hand to soften and caress the sharp outline of his jaw, letting his fingers linger softly over the other man’s ridiculously tiny, endearing ears as he bucked helplessly between him and James.

“I’m going to…” Thomas exhaled.

“Me too…” James intoned, and reached underneath Silver to wrap his generous hand around his weeping cock, speeding him towards completion.

Thomas pulled out of Silver’s mouth, in a moment of almost Christ-like generosity, and spent himself all over the other man’s sweat-slicked shoulder. When James bent over him, to lick his seed up, Thomas’ one regret was that he wasn’t able to come again, right then and there. Silver cried out, James gasped, and the two of them went down onto the mattress in a heap of languid and fucked-out limbs, and then James pulled Thomas down next to them.

It was a while before Thomas found it within himself to speak again, but when he did, he pulled himself together and declared with as much poise as he could, “Now you know what will be expected of you if you ever come to our bedroom again uninvited, Mr. Silver.”

Silver’s voice was a soft purr against Thomas’ ear, “I’ll keep that in mind, my Lord.”

In another minute, Silver was slipping from beneath the covers, producing his crutch from under the bed, and disappearing behind their bedroom door with the grace more suited to a sleek panther than a one-legged man. If it had not been for the miasma of bodily fluids that continued to hang in the air, making Thomas’ brain gooey and soft, he might have sworn it had all been nothing more than a dream conjured up by Morpheus himself as a reward for every prurient thought Thomas may have harbored.

“He’s gorgeous,” Thomas said, turning towards James, who still lay exactly where Silver had left them in the soaked sheets. “But I must believe that you’re going to still love me when I’m old and gouty. Silver... surely his hold on you will dissipate as soon as his looks fade.”

James reached out and drew his thumb across Thomas’ lip in a mirroring gesture from earlier that morning. “He has _looks_?”

Thomas found himself laughing. Things were certainly a lot more interesting with John Silver around. He had a feeling their ever-changing rules and boundaries would be redrawn many more times before they settled into anything resembling a stable, domestic existence. Tolerance, Thomas reminded himself, was all that was required of him. For now.

“If this keeps happening,” he muttered to James, “we’re going to need a bigger bed.”


End file.
